Deliverance
by Ayngel
Summary: Skywarp's violent and lust torn past in pre war Cybertron at the orphanage in Kaon and later as a mobster. Warning: First part is angst/slash Skywarp x Fireflight.
1. Prologue

This story runs parallel to _Decadence_. Originally, they were both part of the same story, but I think it will work better to split them up. We'll see how it goes. There are close links between them, anyway.

This is Skywarp's tale, and it occurs at the same time on Cybertron as _Decadence_. It should have fewer OC's in it but, as with _Decadence,_ you'll see some old favourite non OC's cropping up in unusual roles.

_Warnings__: None really for this Chapter, but this story becomes pretty dark and violent, and will contain slash, so I've stuck it in the M category from the outset._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters and concepts within; all of those belong to Hasboro, IDW etc. The concept of Utopia belongs to Aldhous Huxley._

**-- DELIVERANCE --**

**Prologue**

**From: _The Memoirs of a Squadron Leader._ By author designation: Skywarp; Officer, Decepticon Elite Air Command. Excerpt from _Forward: Cybertron before the War._**

If there's one thing you could say about Cybertron, it's this: It's one Kell of a big planet. If there's another thing you could say, it's this: there used to be one Kell of a lot of mechanisms on it. Too many, it was said, before the war. After the war, there weren't so many. Which should have made it a better place – except that it didn't because all the energy which should have been there for the mechanisms which were left got used up blowing the scrap out of the mechanisms that weren't.

I did a lot of that. The blowing up, I mean. I was one of the main players in the Elite Air Command and it was kind of my job. That's my excuse, anyway. At the time, I thought it was neat. The glory of the Cause, and all that. And the better life it was going to get me, and the rest of us. Don't get me wrong, I never stopped believing in the Cause. I'll be a Decepticon until the day my spark gets taken by Primus. It's just that later on I just thought – well, I wished it had kind of turned out better.

Not all of Cybertron was lived on before the war. In fact, when you think about it, most if wasn't. The population was like - crammed into certain places. That's why it wasn't hard to get rid of a lot of them in a few strikes. Some of those places you wouldn't have given a pit about - like Kaon. I reckon we did everyone a favour blasting the scrap out of that hole. Except that we didn't take out the main bit, cos we needed it. I wished later we had of taken the whole thing out. And I sure as Kell wished we'd have thought a bit more and left some of those other places behind.

Iacon. That's the place everybody still talks about. And it was the best, I have to admit. All those old domes and spires and the silver and glass skyscrapers rising out of them. And sky city sitting up there like a mini citadel all of its own. And the mountains all around, and that golden scarp with the waterfalls pouring over it into those pools just behind, and then that Lake and the Towers District just above. Beautiful, it was up there. Like something out of a recharge vision. I mean - its kind of a sore point for me talking about it, cos that was the bit I really wished I hadn't destroyed later on. But I couldn't really describe Cybertron without starting with it, just the same.

But I didn't grow up in Iacon, see. I didn't really even _go_ to Iacon properly until the time leading up to before the war. To hear a lot of mechs talk you'd have thought Cybertron was just Iacon, but there was a lot more to Cybertron than Iacon. For a start, there was the Great Southern Ocean Just south of Iacon. Most of that was just empty water, mind. Not the same sort of water as on Earth, made up of different chemicals. But it _looked _much like the seas on Earth do and it had waves and tides – although those were more complicated than Earth's because of Cybertron's four moons. There were islands here and there. Some of them were just desolate rocks but some were quite nice and rich Cybertronians made recreation bases out of them. Megatron had a secret base out there before the war too - in the Sea Wind Islands. The main island there was pretty big, but really like – the aft end of nowhere. It was one of the main ways he managed to get such a big operation going without anyone noticing.

There were lots of other cities apart from Iacon. That was just the capital. There was another place called Praxus which was in the northern hemisphere about the same distance from the equator as Iacon was in the South. Praxus was sort of the capital of the south. Types from Praxus liked to think it was on a par with Iacon, but it wasn't. I mean – there was a lot of arty farty stuff and fancy buildings there but it was much newer than Iacon and nowhere near as nice. Then there were other smaller cities to the north and south - Tarn, Voss, Auraco, Niaspar – I can't remember them all. Huge by Earth standards, they were. Most of them got wasted in the war. Some didn't. Like Simpurr to the far north. That was sort of like the old religious capital and not even Megatron was game to drop bombs on that. And Iacca Niara, north of Iacon. That was real old too – nearly as old as Simpurr. Primus alone knows how that escaped. But it did.

Between the cities in the north and south were these huge areas of empty land, around the tropics and the equator. Once you got north of Iacca Niara and into the Iron Hills proper – then it got fairly typical of how it was. Endless mountain ranges, quite big at first but turning into bronze coloured mounds that just rolled on and on, with all these deep gorges and rivers and crashing waterfalls in between. Then the mounds got lower and lower and in the end they disappeared altogether, and there were just flat stretches of orangy brown rock going on forever with nothing but the sky and the two suns and the light from them shining off it; and what looked like water, shimmering in the distance, except that it wasn't. It was heat mirages.

They called those the Equatorial Plains. When I say empty - they weren't completely empty. That was where most of the metals and synthetics that went to make Cybertron's cities and the mechs that lived in them came from. There were a lot of mines out there and tens of thousands of tiny little places – yeah, some of them tiny even by earth standards. Primus forsaken holes, they were, most of them. Right out in the middle of fraggin' nowhere; rough, dangerous and _stinking_ hot. The only one I ever had a real lot to do with before the war was a place called Y'il Halco which was all of those things. They used to say that only madmechs mercenaries and maniacs went to Y'il Halco and they weren't far wrong. Some mechs liked those places cos they were kinda wild and you could get away with stuff there you'd never have got away with in the cities, see; Megatron got a lot of 'con recruits from them. I guess that was true. But I'd rather have walked down Central Avenue in Iacon anytime than the main street in Y'il Halco.

Then finally – of course – there was Kaon. The largest city in Cybertron; covering the most ground, that is. It was just north of the equator and it was the greatest and mightiest Kell hole of them all.

Kaon was everything Iacon wasn't. Imagine all of the horrible little places shoved together in one tangled mess and magnified ten thousand fold; add mile upon mile of pits, smelters, processors, factories, storage facilities and shoved in between a mass of land transport terminals, spacebridge ports, landing ranges and interstellar rocket sites and then a maze of pipes and tracks and conduits running everywhere and you _partly _got it. Imagine a cluster of dirty brown buildings sitting somewhere in amongst all that and then mile upon mile upon mile of iron and concrete blocks and ugly little precincts on the outskirts, and that's a bit closer. Now add a choking grey smog sitting over the whole lot, the stink of chemicals and waste everywhere and the sound of machines and transports and vehicles going twenty four seven and I think maybe you might just get the picture.

And that was only the part above the ground!

There were no spires or towers or domes or cascading waterfalls in Kaon. No lakes with statues or water lapping around fancy bridges or sweet smell of tailings in the air. No sea shimmering on the horizon or mountain backdrop. It was just an endless, ugly sprawl. Home to Cybertron's workers - all the gammas and deltas and epsilons – in the days of the Utopian Order, it was. And they still lived there! Cos even though all that caste system stuff – that was supposed to have changed things and you were supposed to see all sorts of types in places you hadn't used to see them - everyone knew that was a load of scrap. You'd no more have seen an Alpha walking through the blocks in Kaon than you'd have seen an Epsilon sunning himself in some crystal garden at the Towers.

My first home on Cybertron was in the underground bit of the Kell hole, in an orphanage called Tunden. Cos, as you know, I'm a Seeker. Not a native of Cybertron, but of Icthea, which goes around the suns in a closer than Cybertron and is a lot smaller. By the start of the war it had been many vorns since I lived there, and I didn't remember nothing about it. Cos, you see, when I lived there I was not Cybernetic. I was an organic creature, an Icthean.

Ictheans looked very like humans from what I can figure out – except they were bigger, and stronger, and they had wings and could fly, which is something I don't think humans have ever been able to do. Not that I know much about it all. Now that's Thundercracker, could tell you a lot about Icthea. He used to be kinda _obsessed_ with all that , and a lot of other history an' stuff. It never interested me that much.

The point is – Cybertronians went to Icthea just before the end of the Utopian times, and they started taking the gas and the oil and just about everything else the place had to offer that could benefit Cybertron. And then – yeah, you got it – they took the Ictheans. That's right! And we got – assimilated – like into Cybertronian bodies. Flyers, of course, cos that's what we were on Icthea. They reckoned they put us in the same sort of bodies as like we had on Icthea so we could be like on Icthea, except that _– _well I never really saw how they worked that out, cos apart from the wings, We couldn't be, could we? Not that I got all hung up about it. Like TC and some others did. I mean, I always figured we ended up living about seven million years longer than we would've if we'd stayed as Ictheans and that – well surely that wasn't such a bad thing was it?

Except that there were – well – there were one Kell of a lot of us, and we used a lot of energy, and we weren't exactly top of the popularity list on Cybertron. And there were - other problems - to begin with. So after we got assimilated, a lot of us ended up in orphanages. Me, for instance. And so – I guess that's where my story starts. In Kaon, in the Primus forsaken pit which was Tunden. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd really like to say it started somewhere better. Like the spires of Iacon or the Sea Wind Islands or the halls of Iacca Niara or the Towers. But it didn't. And I guess if you want to know about those places in those days - you'll just have to ask somebody else.


	2. Chapter 1

_I do not own transformers or any of the characters or concepts and I make no money from this story or any other about transformers._

_Warnings: This chapter's fairly benign, but whole story contains violence, slash, sexual acts between mechanical beings._

**-- DELIVERANCE --**

**Chapter 1**

I don't remember any sort of creation. There was just the orphanage. Before that, there was nothing.

After we Seekers got assimilated, we were like sparklings, and we had to be brought up from scratch just like other Cybertronian sparklings. Well - not quite. We already had an alt form and we could transform and fly right from the start, see, whereas other sparklings – they don't get to choose an alt form or to transform until they come of age and get initiated and then it's supposed to be an alt form based on what they're gonna do in life. So it was different for us. Besides which, we were in the orphanage.

Not everyone at the Orphanage was a Seeker. That was only a particular contingent of us who were bigger and more powerful. Everyone had been a flier on Icthea of some sort though. Not all of the Seekers who'd been assimilated went in the orphanages either. Some got adopted by Cybertronians cos the Government paid for that, see, so it was a good wicket. Then there were some did it who couldn't have sparklings or they just wanted to do something good for assimilates. Not me, however. Nobody wanted me. Eventually I did get_ sort_ _of _adopted, I suppose. Well, not really adopted. More like - _liberated_. But it was hardly the same situation.

Everything at Tunden was kind of like – rigid. Totally ordered. They'd tried to program a lot of what we were on Icthea out of us - especially emotions - in the assimilation process, but, just in case, everything was totally controlled. It bothered them what might happen if the inmates got out of control - so they made sure we never got the chance. We went through rigorous training and did everything in a set way every cycle. We were closely watched and if anyone stepped out of line then they were punished straight away; the most usual form of this was with a big stick with an electric current running through it called a _Prod_.

There were other methods, too. Like, they drummed into us several times a day how if we didn't tow the line then Primus, who looked after all mechanisms on Cybertron, would see that we burned in the Fires of Kell forever; So we said Prayers several times a day - to Primus. To thank Him for delivering us from an organic existence into the near eternal life of a Cybernetic one and to ask for help with being good Cybertronians; and even though I never really believed that stuff, the way the Priest used to say it, you sort of didn't want to put it to the test.

Oh yes, there were lots of ways they kept us in line. And whilst there may have been glitches in the assimilation process, I don't believe everyone was as ignorant as they made out; At the end of it all, I think the cyberneticists knew exactly what they'd created, and so did the Government. I found that out vorns later. They were just planning to use it in their own way. But not until they were ready.

It was a screw up though. Mainly because nobody paid proper attention to Tunden and there were a load of pathetic sick sadistic fraggers working in there who got their kicks out of giving us a hard time. Obviously, the Seekers weren't gonna put up with that forever and some time after I left there was a riot in there and some tried to total the place. They didn't succeed – and they died trying – but after that the Authorities got interested and then when they found out what was really going on in there an inquest got held and the place got closed down and levelled. Yeah – that's how bad it was: even though Cybertronians didn't like Seekers, they didn't think even Seekers deserved what went on in there. By then, a lot of the inmates had found various ways out and I was long gone.

The whole of Tunden was basically a load of huge underground caverns and long narrow corridors and dormitories. It was dark and gloomy and it stank of stale air and energon. I can still hear the sound of tramping metal feet and smell the sulphur from the crude energy lamps on the wall as we marched in single file along those corridors. Everything got done at the same time and in the same way every single cycle. Because we were underground, there was no light and dark, so I still don't know whether the cycle they used on us was the same as in the outside world and was to do with the two suns. But every online cycle began the same - the lights glaring into action and the first siren of the day sounding and the noise of everyone coming online - and then assembly, and then the regular training classes and energisation and recreation until the final assembly. Then the cycle ended the same - in that narrow hard berth in that dormitory with about two hundred other Seekers and Fliers also in narrow hard berths all arranged in straight lines. The final act was the light going off. And when the light went off in that dorm, it was blacker in there than the blackest pit in Kell.

We had no rights in Tunden. Nor anything of our own. The closest thing we had to something of our own was a set of scourers and brushes they gave us for ablutions twice a day – but even they were stamped with the Tunden crest. Nor were we really supposed to be "social." The life they made us lead was hardly conducive to that. We were not allowed to talk in assembly, or at training sessions, or between sessions, or in ablution, or even prior to recharge, and certainly not when we were meant to be recharging. There were Prefects stationed everywhere who brandished the prod if this was not taken notice of. The only "social" time we got was at energisation time between last training session and final assembly.

Was I unhappy? I cannot truly remember. I don't think it was really a question of happiness or unhappiness. It just was. We hadn't been programmed to question and we didn't question. And I know for one that if something crossed my processor to the effect that I should question something then I remembered the programming, and the Prod, and the fires in Kell and I didn't question. There was nothing to compare it to, see. And whilst we all knew that there was more to Cybertron than Tunden - cos they taught us about it as part of the training - and we all knew that some time, somehow, we would go to the surface and we would live there and although we didn't know what that would be like we just assumed it would be all right because _they _would arrange it. There was no need to know or question more than that.

........................

The first part of my story is about how in the space of a few cycles I _changed_. I changed and I got out of there. It is about how I did start to question, and to want more. And, in so doing, I also changed things at Tunden and Seekers forever too – well, at least, I like to take the credit for that.

And it was all because of Thrust and Dirge, and the Aerialbots, and Fireflight especially, and Swindle; and although I didn't end up friends with any of them later on, and, in fact, all of them caused me grief in their own ways in later times, many vorns later, as I thought of the Aerialbots on their miserable shuttle run when they were capable of so much more, and Thrust getting beaten to a pulp by Starscream and TC, and Swindle getting dragged screaming away to that mind prison of Megatron's I did reflect that I should perhaps have been just a little sympathetic and a little bit grateful to them – for what happened in Tunden, if nothing else. Although in Thrust's case, maybe not.

..........................

It all began one recharge cycle, just before the lights went out. I remember that recharge cycle. I was laying there on my back with my wings pressed flat, feet together, arms by my sides and still staring at the ceiling. That was how we had to lie when the Janitor and his Prefects did their last inspection – all the same, like that. We'd get flashlights shone on us and if anybody wasn't lying right then they got Prodded.

I was laying there and I was feeling angry because quite a few Seekers had got Prodded that night, some for not lying right but some for not doing things right in the ablution block. Ablution was a huge issue at Tunden. At the start of every online cycle, after the first inspection, we had to file into the ablution blocks in groups, cleanse and scrub ourselves in a particular way, and then, afterwards, go back and stand beside our berths until it was time for assembly. The water was always freezing and although I could understand the reason for the pre-recharge ablution I never could understand the pre-online cycle one, considering all we'd had to do in between that and the last one was recharge. That was, of course, the sort of thing we just weren't programmed to question. Yet it probably was the first thing I did, in fact, ever question.

Even in those ablution blocks there were prefects that had to observe us; anyone who didn't do it right got reported to the Janitor. The Janitor was a squat, ugly little fragger – like a blob on legs – with a bad temper and a big Prod in his hand. He used to take anyone that didn't do things right into his back room. Some of the Prefects used to go in there too. And if you saw what those fliers looked like after being in that back room – if you ever saw them again at all – then there was no way you weren't gonna ablute right.

That cycle, I remember there was still that smell of singed circuitry that always hung in the air after Seekers or Fliers got Prodded. There'd been scuffling and whimpers as the offenders were taken to the back room, then I'd heard the Janitor and the prefects laughing and I could hear what sounded like a cupboard being opened and something clinking. Then I remember the lights had gone out, but there was still a shaft of light at one end and I knew that was coming from the back room. Then there was more scuffling and out of the side of my optic I could see there were shadows moving in the shaft of light; then there were grunting noises, more laughter and several Seeker cries and again the smell of burning; then there was the sound of a door slamming and it went pitch black.

I remember laying there listening to the sound of intakes cycling air and bodies shifting as they went offline and feeling quite sick and trying not to think of what might or might not be going on in that back room, and I remember it came to me then that I really did not like that Janitor. In fact, I couldn't stand him. Had I felt that way before? I must have, I thought. Apart from the Prodding and that back room stuff, he was horrible. He stank of stale high grade and sump oil and you could smell the useless piece of pit from right across the room. And I thought about how he used to make us salute when we went past him into the dorm and how when we went past, his eyes used to gleam all red and sleazy and even though I didn't know anything about connecting or interfacing or any of that stuff at that time somehow I knew _exactly_ what that slagger was thinking. No, I really did not like him, or those Prefects who perved at us in the ablution blocks, at all.

Then I remember I felt angry and I wanted to get up and go into that back room and stop whatever in Kell was going on in there and smash that Janitor's stupid ugly face in and I felt strangely sure I would be able to do it. But then I remember I sort of froze inside because that was just such a totally alien thought for me; and I remember getting confused and scared and thinking about the Prod cos, you see, that was the thing, see. We had this programming, and it wasn't supposed to include the processing of ideas like that.

And then, Just as I was thinking about that, this whimpering started up in the berth next to mine and I can tell you, I nearly jumped out of my frame. Because we were strictly not allowed to make any noise after lights out. We weren't allowed to talk a lot in Tunden, period. Only at energisation times and in the so called "recreation breems" between last training session and recharge. Making a noise when we weren't supposed to be making a noise was definitely something which earned us the Prod and that was particularly so when it came to the recharge cycle. And even though I was pretty sure the Janitor had gone for the night, he was only in the back room, and I knew he would have left several Prefects behind.

The whimpering was right next to me and I realised it was coming from the occupant of the berth next to me, and that it was getting louder.

I knew the occupant. He was a flier called Fireflight. I didn't know him well, and I certainly wouldn't have called him a friend, or anything like that. Up until then, I hadn't really spoken much to others in Tunden. At energisation – our only social time – when we had filed past the table stacked with energon and got our cube, we had to then go and sit at a certain table to drink it, and I knew Fireflight sometimes sat next to me – but he was just another flier I trained with and who happened to sit next to me at energisation. I recalled then that he had trouble with transforming and that he'd got the Prod a few times for ending up in the wrong configuration. I also remembered that he'd been missing from our group at one stage for a while because they overdid it with the Prod and he'd had to be in the medbay.

And now here he was, whimpering away, and it was getting louder and louder, and I knew it was bound to bring the attention of whatever Prefects were still lurking in the darkness. So I leaned across and I hissed: "Fireflight! Be quiet!"

He let out a wail. "You know my name!"

I said "Of course I do! Now for Primus sake tone it down! The Prefects will hear you!"

But he only wailed even louder: "Please ...... Noooooo ..."

I thought I heard footsteps then and I paused. But there was only the sound of the intakes sighing and the sound of metal scraping softly as somebody turned over. The whimpering started up again. I leant across again. "Be quiet!" I said "Or I'm going to get into that berth with you and make you be quiet!" It was a stupid suggestion, of course as there wasn't even room for two on one of those berths and what would happen if the Prefects were to view such an act hardly bore thinking about. But at that point I would have been happy to say anything just to shut him up.

"Leave me alone!" he whimpered "I'm being a good Cybertronian aren't I? I shouldn't go to Kell!" then he wailed: "Oh all right! _I know I can't fight you_. You can just – _take me_ ..."

What was he on about? It didn't matter, I remember thinking, as long as he shut up. I said "Look, nobody's gonna take you anywhere! Except that back room if you don't shut up! Now cut it out!"

He paused then, and I could hear his intakes hissing faster than the others in berths around. Then in a shaky voice, he whispered: "You're not one of _them_ then?"

This was getting ridiculous. "One of _what_?" I whispered back.

".... you know..." and then he wailed again: "A_n agent from Kell!_"

Then I knew what he was on about. It was the stuff that Priest had been going on about at Assembly that cycle. The stuff he went on about after the prayers to Primus. There were these beings who were supposed to be creeping around everywhere invisible. Agents of Evil, they were, he said. They would take us away to Kell in the night if we didn't do all the stuff they told us, and Primus wouldn't do anything about it. Like I said, I never really believed in all that, although up to then I'd just sort of gone along with it. Like everything else. Now, I decided, it was time to take a stand.

I said "I don't believe in that nonsense. There's no such thing as an invisible being! They just tell us all that to make us do what they want." Yeah I said just that. Later on in life I might not have used quite those words, but that's another story.

"How can you be sure?" he whimpered.

I couldn't, I realised then. But somewhere, somehow I was reasonably certain – like I had this new kind of confidence about things. I realised that whatever else it didn't terrify me to the point of making a racket like this. But obviously it did him, and just telling him to shut up wasn't going to do any good. So I said: "Look, I am not one of those things. My name's Skywarp, and I'm in the berth next to you. I've never really talked to you, but we train together."

Then he said "I know you, you're a Seeker ... you're a really good flier. I never knew it was you in the berth there ... " and he sounded a bit more cheerful and less fearful and somehow him saying that made _me_ feel sort of different too. Chuffed. Like, nobody ever said that before. Nobody ever said anything about anything in Tunden!

And then I had a sudden thought. "Here...," I said "... reach out your hand ...."

I reached out, and so did he, and our fingers touched, and it was kind of like a shock went through my systems cos that was the first time I ever touched anyone, you see. Then he was clutching at my hand and all of a sudden he was hanging on to it as though his life and spark depended upon it. And it felt all small and vulnerable in mine and I felt all strong and protective and a really good feeling went all through me and it was like for the first time ever I felt like I was someone that somewhere, somehow counted.

And it was then, at that moment, I swear on the altars of Simpurr, that something shifted in the Universe and things started to change in my life. It was like some new software booted up in my processor that was different from all the programs I knew. My voice even sounded changed when I whispered: "go back offline! I won't let you go."

He murmured and I heard him shift, and I felt his hand firmly in mine. And I kept hold of it for the whole of the rest of that recharge cycle and then even when I was offline again I could still feel that hand clutching mine. It was only as the siren sounded and the light came on that I gently disengaged his fingers and let them slip away.

..................


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters and concepts within; all of those belong to Hasboro, IDW etc. _

_Warnings__: Violence; *Slash* sexual acts between mechanical mechanisms. Preliminaries here __but this story will get quite explicit. You have been warned!_

This is actually the story I'm most enjoying writing! I like the Skywarp x Fireflight pairing and have decided that these two should come together again in the future in less dark and dire circumstances. The dark and dire circumstances do lend a certain level of_ angst_ here however ...

Sorry conehead fans - I guess they just can't hold a candle to the beautiful trine ... or the aerialbots for that matter.

**--DELIVERANCE--**

**Chapter 2**

As we filed to the ablution block, I had a good look at the back of my new recharge cycle companion as he marched in front of me. I registered that he was smaller than me, compact and well proportioned and quite powerful looking but yet with a lithe look somehow and graceful tapering wings. I remember thinking that his colour scheme appealed because it was striking – all red and white, with just a hint of blue – and I remembered then that his alt form was actually rather sleek and impressive, and that for a non Seeker he was quite a fast and nifty performer.

During the cleansing routine, I got an even better look at him, because he was right in the bay next to me. For once the freezing water didn't bother me. As he applied the cleansers to various parts of him I decided that I liked the way he moved, and that he had nice strong limbs and, in particular, very appealing, firm thighs. Now I could see his face, I thought he was actually very good looking; and whilst he wasn't looking at me, he had a little smile on his face and his wings twitched from time to time, and I was sure that the not looking was deliberate and that he knew full well I was looking at him and he was liking it. And I remember suddenly it just seemed ridiculous that every day we did this and I'd never looked at him before. And I thought: _Why?_

And then - I'll never forget this – something really different happened. Suddenly, looking at his body and the way he was washing his thighs, I had all these strange sensations. Like a tingling went through my circuitry and it felt as though data in my processor was suddenly being reorganised and filed in a different way from before, and pathways in my circuitry were rerouting, and physically there were parts of my hardware actually _rearranging_ themselves. My intakes gave a great sigh and I felt a rush of heat wash up and down my thighs, my wings tingled and I felt them twitch and flare and stiffen and my pelvic plating suddenly felt tighter than it usually did; and I realised I wanted to – touch him again. And not just his hand, but all over. I wanted to – feel him. And I had no idea _why,_ or even really _how_, but it was the strongest urge I could ever remember having in my life and to not just reach over and do so - it was actually pretty damned hard.

He looked at me as we came out from under the water jets and I saw that he had very blue, cobalt optics, and now all of a sudden these struck me as beautiful. His whole face, in fact, was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful. And we looked at each other for a long moment and I felt my wings stiffen again and his twitched and my processing chamber lurched and I just had this _feeling_ of wanting him against me and if it hadn't been for the Janitor and the Prefects standing there I think I would have done something to him right then, even though I would not have had the first idea what to do. In the moments of that gaze, somehow inside, somehow I knew - that we both wanted the same, but we said nothing and we both fell silently into line under the narrow, watchful optics of the Janitor.

In assembly, the Priest seemed to have forgotten about the Agents from Kell. Instead, I recall, we got a lecture about the Realm of Illumination, this place which was the opposite from Kell where we were all going if we behaved. Beside me, Fireflight seemed fidgety. We were standing very close to each other and listening to the priest at that moment and - was it my imagination or could I still feel heat coming off him? I remember he moved a little closer and our fingers brushed and that same tingling and wing stiffening sensation went all through me again and he made the tiniest noise, and from the end of the line, the Janitor looked over, and there was a menacing look on that ugly face.

Then I knew that this – what I wanted to do – what _we _wanted to do – _a heck of a lot_, it seemed - was _completely not on_ and that if I even gave so much as the tiniest impression that we wanted to do it we would both be punished and, worse still, I might not see Fireflight any more. And for the first time, then, a wave of resentment ricocheted all through my mood indicators and I felt angry, and pissed off, and I hated the fact that I couldn't just do this thing that I now wanted so much to do. At the same time I half wished the Priest would go on about Kell again because then Fireflight would get scared and then I could hold his hand and there'd be an excuse. Ridiculous, and it was as well that the Priest didn't. But in my new desperate state of need, so I reasoned.

...................

It was shortly after that when the second thing happened which was to bring about a big change.

An announcement was made. A new announcement. It was made just before the Transformation class which was being held, as usual, in the great South Hall, and it was the Transformation instructor, Dreadnought, who made it.

"We have let some of our ordinary Prefects go and that has left a few positions vacant. We have decided that you – students – should be offered the opportunity to have this role yourselves, if you are deemed suitable, and have been model students and performed well. It is a new idea – we feel it will make you all try harder. Then if you succeed you will never have to take the Prod again. What is more, you will be given your own Prod and you will have the opportunity to use it on others."

Now at Tunden, there was always Prefects everywhere. They were not only in the dorms and ablution blocks, but they lined the corridors as we went from one place to another, seeing that we didn't talk and they were always there in classes where they usually wielded the Prod and applied it, if necessary, at the command of whatever instructor was belting out orders. Always, up until now, the Prefects had been strangers. An odd bunch they were, a miserable bunch of misfits and oddities. I reckon most of them were only in there cos they couldn't get a job anywhere else. Most of them were like the Janitor - ugly and horrible. But they were strangers.

Now, there was a ripple of surprise and dismay ran through the group at Dreadnought's announcement. Because even though we didn't talk or socialise much, or question the Prod, I believe now that there was a silent deep resentment of it and that we were, in fact, all united in our feelings about it against the staff and Prefects. I don't think there was anyone in there who wanted to use it on a fellow Icthean. And then there was an even bigger reaction when Dreadnought said: "Thrust, Dirge, step forward please" Oh yeah, the gasp fairly echoed around that group.

The two "new Prefects" emerged from among us. Everyone was staring in amazement and I knew everyone was thinking the same as me that _how in Kell had they got the jobs_? Cos they weren't particularly good performers, and as for being model Tunden students – well, Thrust was one of the few there that I had talked to on occasions. Not really talked – more like he growled at me and I snarled back at him, He was greedy, and a bully, see. At energisation, he used to grab the biggest cube, and I'd seen him steal other peoples' and I didn't feel it was right and I'd said something about it, and he'd told me to mind my own slagging business. But the Prefects were watching closely and it went no further. He wasn't that good a performer, being slow at transformation and not that crash hot when it came to the flying manoeuvres.

Dirge I hadn't spoken to. I'd never wanted to. He was a better performer, but an absolute miserable afthole. Something about his presence in the training sessions put a real dampener on everything and made it harder for everyone else to perform than it should have been. And there was a nastiness about him; a feeling that for him the universe was just not right and he was going to make damned sure that everybody else suffered for this. Dirge was always like that. He never changed.

"Thrust and Dirge ..." Dreadnought explained, "... have performed better than all of the rest of you and have proven exemplary; they are the first to have been rewarded with these positions. Come Thrust, Dirge! I'm delighted to present you with your Prods ..."

That angry feeling rushed through me again and it came to me that they just had to have done _something_ to get those positions; once again I found myself questioning things in Tunden in a way that I'd never done before.

The sight of them made me quite sick. There they were, moving forward to get their new toys, both with that awkward but arrogant swagger and those stupid pointed heads. The heads were because of their alt forms, which weren't a lot different from what they got many vorns later on Earth - sleek, fast and with long fuselages which looked quite flash when they were like that but didn't take transformation well. Primus, they were ugly, I thought now. Compared to Fireflight – or most of the rest of the group, for that matter - they were _very_ ugly. Thrust had beady little red eyes in a little sunken grey face which had a nasty smirk on it. The other one was grey faced as well, with that sour, miserable expression topped off by a menacing sneer.

As he took the prod, Thrust smiled, a nasty, calculating smile. Dirge simply nodded, and then glared around at everyone, as though daring them right there and then to make him use it. I don't think there was any doubt in anyone's mind that the new appointees intended talking their responsibilities one hundred per cent seriously.

I felt Fireflight shiver beside me and that feeling of great protectiveness came over me and I wanted more than ever to reach out and put my arms around him and draw him in next to me, but I couldn't.

.................

Despite all, the training day went well for me. I felt in a very good mood. Better than usual. I mean, transformation classes were not much to be cheerful about. Basically we all stood in a row and Dreadnought called out our names and we had to transform one after the other. Again, and again, and again, until we got the configurations perfect. I'd felt previously that I was coming on well, and didn't seem to have the relay and alignment problems that some of the others did. But this cycle I knew I was transforming faster and more smoothly than ever before. Dreadnought gave me a nod of approval. That was about as good an indication of praise as you ever got from Dreadnought.

Because I had performed so well, I got given a break and, having stationed myself some distance from the new prefects, I allowed myself to observe the others. I'd never really done that before. In fact, what had I done in there up to now? Had I even really been present? It felt as though I were actually in there and part of things for the first time ever.

There were about ten in the group. There was a tall, very graceful white flier who I remembered was called Silverbolt and who always seemed to struggle with everything and who often got the Prod. This session was no exception. The configuration was all right, but the process was painfully slow. The solution was simple. "Dirge, if you please!" said Dreadnought, and the nasty blue and grey conehead's face seemed to _light up_ like never before and he strode across and rammed the Prod savagely into Silverbolt's side. The graceful silver plane cried out, his face screwed up in agony. "Transform!" snapped Dreadnought and I could see Dirge leering there and it looked as though he really hoped Silverbolt would screw up again. As the silver flier tried it, I saw that he was shaking. Somehow, he managed it and Dreadnought nodded his approval. Thrust looked darkly at Silverbolt and slid away and I saw the silver flier give a great sigh of relief.

The next one was another of the pointed head brigade, a red white and grey one who thought he was much better at things than he actually was. He wore a pissed off expression and, knowing Ramjet as I came to know him later, that was undoubtedly to do with his failure to be offered the promotion like his counterparts. He seemed fritzed and frustrated. When he transformed, he kept ended up with his tail fins pointing the wrong way, and then when Dreadnought told him off, he scowled and started shouting that he hadn't been programmed right. The response was equally straightforward. "Very well, Ramjet! Thrust, if you please ...." and the smirking red one came striding forward and with an expression of extreme satisfaction, applied the Prod. There was a crackle and Ramjet jumped quite a way into the air. "Afthole ..." he yelled at Thrust, a silly response because, of course, the ugly red fragger just turned up the voltage on the prod and applied it again.

"Now then, let's try again ..." said Dreadnought. This time the tailfins were right but the wings were upside down. Thrust stepped forward. "Shall I?" he said. "No!" snapped Dreadnought. "that will be enough. But he's just going to stay here and do this until such time as he gets it right, that's all."

My attention turned again then to Fireflight's lithe red and white form and I made a great effort to stop the now familiar feelings which were going all through me as a result of doing that. I concentrated instead upon the mechanics of his transformation, which he was performing quite well. Not as smoothly as me, but well enough not to attract negative attention from Dreadnought. He saw me looking at him then, and gave a quick look in Dreadnought's direction. Seeing that Dreadnought was occupied with Ramjet again, he crept over. There he was looking at me intensely with those very blue optics of his, and there was an excited look in them and his wings twitched in a way which stirred things right deep there under my plating. I almost wanted to say "don't do that" except that it was so delicious I didn't want him to not do it. Instead, I said: "You're doing OK!"

"I am?" he said

"Yes. Relax your relay systems ... just - let it happen...." Then I know I did let out a small groan because I realised it wasn't just the transformation I was talking about. He heard it and an intense look came into those blue optics and he said "Skywarp. I don't know ... I just want to say thanks ... I ..."

"No talking!" Dirge had been watching us. He came over and shoved the prod in Fireflight's side and fired it and my precious red and white flier yelped with pain. Thrust was suddenly there beside him as well. "You!" he said to Fireflight. "Stand over there!" Fireflight didn't look at me. He got up and limped away. "And you!" He addressed me. "Transform again!"

It was then that another stage of the change took place. I stared straight into the horrid little red optics in the ugly grey face and I stood up, very slowly, never taking my own off them. I was taller than him, I realised, and bigger and as I rose I felt powerful, and the look of contempt he was giving me, on top of what he had just done to Fireflight, I suddenly just wanted to hit him so hard. To use that prod. Anything. To really damage him. And then a new expression – was it fear? Surprise? I wasn't sure - came into his optics and I saw his hand twitch around the Prod as though he was going to use it but thought better of it. He grunted and moved away. And that was the beginning of a hatred between me and Thrust that was to last for the next four million or so vorns, but it was also the first and last time he ever considered using the Prod on me in Tunden.

Dreadnought was standing there by then and I simply turned away and performed an impeccable transformation sequence. Once again he nodded approval. And then the siren went off that signified the end of the session and Dreadnought called the rest of the group over. Then we lined up and all trooped out of there, and Fireflight was at the front of the line and I was at the back and even from there I could see that he had a slight limp but the Prod didn't seem to have done too much damage, and relief swept through my spark. Thrust and Dirge were standing off to one side and Thrust was still staring at me, and now I could feel real malevolence coming out of those optics. Everyone left except Ramjet, who was still trying to figure how to get his wings the right way up.

.................

To my dismay, our flying instructor Dogfight greeted Thrust and Dirge warmly. It was clear they were going to continue their role in this session as well. Flying training was generally more interesting than Transformation because Dogfight had us execute various flight sequences around this massive underground cavern. Today, we were going to be doing turns and rolls. It was easier too because we generally got to stay in alt mode for longer and didn't have to stress too much about doing perfect transformations.

Just before we started, Fireflight gravitated over. "You all right?" I asked. "Yeah!" he said and he had that look again and it went all through me. I saw Thrust have a word with Dogfight and Dogfight looked in our direction and I said "sshhh" but it was too late. He called Fireflight over. An expression of absolute horror came on to the little flier's face. That's the only way I can describe it. Then the rest of us had to line up but Fireflight had to sit on the floor in front of Dirge. I didn't want to make things worse, so I did my best to ignore him, but out of the corner of my optic, I could see the blue and grey conehead doing horrible things. Like kicking him in the back every now and then and treading on his fingers. Those lovely fingers which had been in my hand all through the recharge cycle. Every time Dirge did something Fireflight winced and every time he winced I got a little bit angrier.

And it was then that I started to get it into my head that I wasn't just going to think about damaging that smart afted conehead. _I was going to do it_. To him and his horrible counterpart. I wanted to do it, and it no longer even mattered what my programming should or shouldn't be.

_Not now though_, a little voice seemed to say in my processor. So I concentrated on what the others were doing and on my own performance and tried not to pay too much attention to the plight of this one that I suddenly liked so much. Because I did like him, I realised then. I liked him a real lot. In fact, I thought he was amazing. Out of all of those others in that cavern, he was easily the most amazing and the most beautiful. And I wanted him like nothing ever before. And once again I was amazed that I had not thought this before and I had to remind myself that up until then I had not thought anybody was anything, had thoughts like that at all, and that this was new for me and I didn't know what in Kell was going to happen but I had to be very, very careful.

I remember I really made a supreme effort to concentrate on the others. There was a little one called Slingshot. Ugly little thing. Not beautiful like Fireflight but not nasty like Thrust and Dirge either. A bit too cocky; daring , but he showed off too much and tried to do more than he was capable of. He managed the rolls all right but he tried to turn too steeply and with not enough power and he fell into a flat spin, whirling down and crashing in a heap on the cavern floor.

"Thrust!" The Prefect sprang into action and went straight out and and prodded him and he yelled hard. I remember I saw his eyes flash with what I thought were the same sort of new feelings that I I'd been getting all day. But he was sensible enough not to challenge Thrust and he limped back to the others, where I saw Silverbolt look at him with such hurt that you'd have think he'd have just got the Prod stuck in him again. Anger surged again then because the way Thrust did it, it was just so over the top and I thought _you are a horrible piece of gear. I am going to get you. And I am going to get your miserable companion as well. I will make you regret the day either of you ever got a prod in your hand, and whatever happens in the universe in our lives you are not going to frag with me, ever!_

"Skywarp! Now then, let's see what you are made of." Dogfight was in front of me. "I want a steep banked turn to the left and three snap rolls within fourteen microseconds."

A sort of a gasp went up. These were complex manoeuvres for us, at that stage in the training. Thrust and Dirge looked up with interest then and smiled horrible, self satisfied smiles, and it came to me that I was being set up.

But something else also came to me then, too. For the first time I realised how wonderful looking and powerfully built I was than all of them and how well I could fly. Especially compared to those two morons with the Prods - in fact, as far as they were concerned there _was _no comparison. I felt again that something was shifting. As I walked across, there was a silence and I knew everyone was looking at me – _differently_ from what they ever had before. I always loved flying. But I can honestly say that then was the first time I ever felt _really _good about flying, and about who and what I was. I was also conscious of something else. And now more than ever I knew that I didn't want to be at Tunden in this silly cavern; that I wanted to get out of there and into the outside world and, again, it mattered not that this wasn't my programming.

I didn't disappoint my audience, I remember. My turns were on a knife edge, impeccably executed, and the rolls in an exact straight line, all performed at the exact same rate and within the time, and my landing was exactly on the spot marked for the purpose.

When I came back over, something else happened for the first time. Everyone clapped. I saw Fireflight look up and despite his tormentor still standing over him he was smiling and his blue optics were shining and I felt all dizzy again and my spark suddenly felt like it was going to melt in my chest. The others were smiling and muttering things and Dogfight didn't do anything about shutting them up. Then little Slingshot burst out: "Wow! Can he ever manoeuvre!" and everyone muttered like they agreed and Dogfight still didn't shut them up. Even Ramjet looked impressed.

Only Thrust and Dirge were scowling and looked extremely disappointed; but they couldn't do anything. I fixed Dirge with the same look I had given Thrust in the class before and he seemed to suddenly not look so confident about it all. He moved away from Fireflight who looked up at me again and my spark leapt again.

Dogfight was looking at me curiously. "Impressive ..." he said. "_Most impressive ...."_

And that was all.

...................


	4. Chapter 3

_Much as I would love to I do not own Transfomers or any characters or ideas from within any of the series or cartoons or toys or anything else ..._

_Warning - *slash* sexual acts between mechanical beings analogous to human sex, self stimulation._

The orphanage days are not forever – there is change in the air – but Skywarp does manage to have a fling with Fireflight before this happens ...

This gets pretty full on – you've been warned.

**==DELIVERANCE==**

**Chapter 3**

At energisation, I found myself suddenly surrounded by my new admirers. I realised again how little I'd had to do with them up until that cycle. To my right I was acutely aware of Fireflight; Silverbolt was on my left and Slingshot opposite and two others from our group called Sky Dive and Air Raid had turned up as well. I realised that I hadn't ever really sat here with them like this; that usually I was at the end of the table on my own and they were at the other end talking. I hadn't even really thought this was strange or that something else could be better, either. It was, like everything else had been - just the way it was. Now, suddenly, I felt popular and important. It was a good sensation.

I noticed that the two new additions opposite had the same oval blue optics as Fireflight, but only one had the same striking red and white markings. He looked much the same as Fireflight, cuter, in some ways, although not as beautiful. He giggled a lot. The other was coloured blue, and seemed more serious. They were a good looking pair, I thought. I noticed that they sat very close together and exchanged meaningful looks at times, and once Skydive brushed something away from Air Raid's cheek. Mostly, though, they chattered away with Slingshot as they sipped at their cubes, an excited look about them, talking about various manoeuvres and other things they had done during classes. I got the impression they were showing off.

I looked around the rest of the rec room, at the tables of flyers with their cubes in front of them. Was it my imagination, or had the atmosphere here changed tonight? Every other cycle all there had been over and above the soft rustle of metal bodies moving and sound of chairs scraping was a low subdued hum of conversation with, every now and then, a squeal and a thud as somebody got the prod. Then it would all go quiet and then the hushed talking would start up again. Now the talk seemed louder, and I could pick out individual voices - even a laugh here and there - and there weren't any noises of anyone being subjected to anything else. In fact, when I looked around, I couldn't even see any Prefects. They were there usually. Weren't they?

"Skywarp, how do you do them?" there was a little voice in my audials from across the table. I brought my attention back to the fliers opposite and saw that three pairs of optics were upon me. "Those manoeuvres..." Slingshot demanded, an eager and impatient look about him, "I wanna know how you get those turns so tight. I mean look at me, I'm smaller than you and I can't get in half as close as that with out stuffing it up! What's the secret?" Air Raid tittered beside him.

Now I thought about it, I didn't really know what _the secret_ was; Flying – even the more complex manoeuvres - just came very naturally to me, no different from walking around and talking and energising. And now I thought further, it actually didn't seem to matter that I had a cybernetic body; not that I could remember any other – but all this training and orientation was supposed to be on account of that, whereas I felt as though I hardly needed it. They were looking at me all eagerly, and I knew I had to give them an answer, so I said a few things: "Well - you have to focus on your coordination ... get up enough air speed ... go into a slight dive if necessary to achieve that ..." and other similarly rote things which seemed to please them because they went all quiet and attentive and were obviously taking in every word.

I felt Fireflight shift beside me, then. He was the only one who hadn't spoken, yet I sensed he was listening even more avidly to everything I said than anyone else. It ran through my processors just how much, apart from anything else, I liked him being there at my side; _wanted_ him to be there. The sweet scent of him caught my olfactory sensors and I wished I didn't have to be all quiet and secretive over what I wanted to do with him but that I could just stand up and say: "he's mine, everyone ..." and then whisk him away somewhere, away from that room, and just hold him in my arms and touch him; and my intakes let out a loud sigh as though in agreement.

On the other side of the table, the chatter from my new fans continued. "Aw," Slingshot was saying, "ya make it sound so easy! Mind you, it might be easier if we were out in the fresh air and not stuck in this Kell hole. How are we ever supposed to really fly properly when we're stuck underground?"

Beyond them and at the other end of the room I saw the three Coneheads enter and go straight to the energon table. I noticed also that Dirge and Thrust barged straight past the flyers who were still waiting, and grabbed two cubes each – presumably another advantage of their new held superior posts. They carried the inevitable Prods in their hands. It somewhat ruined what I had started to think was a far more positive ambience in the rec room this cycle.

Silverbolt evidently noticed it as well. He leaned across the table and whispered: "Tone it down, Sling! Prefects are behind ...." and then as three heads all turned together he said "_Don't look round! _Primus! Situation's bad enough as it is. I don't think any of our systems are up to another burst from that Prod."

They turned back. Slingshot now leaned in. "Yeah!" he said in a voice less quiet than Silverbolt's had been. "That red one. What an _afthole!_ Do you reckon if we all got together we could take him? I mean I know we're not supposed to think things like that, but do ya?" There was a general excited muttering and Skydive and Air Raid nodded eagerly in approval and beside me I felt Fireflight shift again. Then they were all looking at me and I sensed they wanted me to agree.

"_Slingshot ....!"_ Silverbolt said in despair. I felt he was looking to me for support.

I considered the prospect. Now I thought about it, I was sure that they could overpower him. One of them on their own facing one of them with that Prod – no match. But together ...

But I had an even stronger conviction within me. That I could take either of them single handedly, maybe even both together; and that these other flyers didn't need to worry themselves about achieving that end, because it was not their business to do so. I felt suddenly protective towards them - as though it were my job to look after them - and in a position of influence, and even more conscious of Fireflight's presence, and I felt certain now that I was going to face Thrust and that the time when I would do it was not very far away.

The three were looking at me, eagerly awaiting my opinion, and I could sense Fireflight's own excitement next to me. "I think Silverbolt's right," I said, "they're nasty, those two, and they're the ones with the Prods - not you."

They looked disappointed, especially Slingshot; but then Air Raid shrugged and they went back to talking between themselves. Behind them and to the right I saw the Coneheads, cubes in hand, sit down a few tables away, placing themselves so we were in full view. Evidently their direct physical presence was no longer required with us at energisation – which was perhaps the only bonus to come from their new status – but they looked as though they were still determined to keep us in their sights. I stole a glance at Silverbolt beside me, who smiled gratefully. "Skywarp ..." he said; I need to speak to you about something ..." and I took my optics away from the others and bowed my head towards him to hear more clearly.

I'd decided that I very much liked this flyer; he was gentle and kind.

"I'm glad you decided to talk to us," he said quietly. "We thought you must think you were too good for us on account of what you were on Icthea."

Turning from him, I reached across and took my cube and took a sip of the sharp tasting liquid and thought for a moment. Puzzled, I replaced it and turned back to him. "No," I said, "that wasn't the reason. It was just that ... look, I don't know ..."

And that was just it. What had been the reason? And now I was even more puzzled. "What was I on Icthea?" I asked. "Surely you don't actually _remember_ that place do you?"

"No," he said - sadly, I thought - "but some information was transferred to my databanks during the assimilation process - erroneously, I believe. I have matched images of you with images in the data and there is no doubt as to who you are ...." I heard Fireflight sigh on the other side of me and was suddenly very aware of him again, and without even thinking I reached out my hand and took his, and immediately that warm glow spread all through my circuits, and I felt quite disorientated and had to shutter my optics briefly. Silverbolt turned and took up his cube and took a sip of energon. I got the impression he knew something was happening on the other side of me, but he was too polite to say anything. I could feel Fireflight's hand in mine all warm and soft and an image sprang up of the rest of his form and of him washing himself and the scent of him wafted to me again. I held the hand tightly but I also made a great effort to give my attention to Silverbolt.

He was talking again. "Back on Icthea it was all Tribes, you see ...," he was saying, " ... and there were ranks within the Tribes; and you were of the Warrior Rank – that is why they call you a Seeker here on Cybertron ..." he paused and sipped on the cube again. Then he leant very close and he whispered: "But there is more, Skywarp! On Icthea, you were part of the High Order Tribe, and you were very special within that Tribe!"

It should have been fascinating, I supposed. It obviously was to Silverbolt; but I have to say I struggled with trying to find it so, other than that it may, I supposed, explain my superior abilities. What we might or might not have been in our previous existence just didn't seem relevant now. I felt Fireflight's hand squeeze mine tightly, felt him fidget beside me, and my intakes heaved automatically and I struggled to maintain my concentration. Silverbolt gave a little frown, but he said nothing.

Picking up my own cube again and taking a sip, I said. "What about you?"

A little smile crossed Silver's face. "All of us at the table here were of another Tribe," he said. "Of a lesser status, although we were all related, I believe."

I was still very much aware of Fireflight's hand. I put my cube back on the table and studied the trio opposite who had, I was sure, been listening in on the conversation, although they now giggled and pretended not to have been. I looked at them more closely. I could see the similarity between Silver and Air raid and Fireflight, but the other two seemed different. Then, out of the corner of my optic, I saw Thrust and Dirge looking in our direction and even though I knew they could not possibly see the hands, I let go of Fireflight, once again acutely aware of his touch slipping away and of the loss of connection between us.

"What about them?" I said to Silverbolt, nodding in their direction. I noticed that they were looking across and muttering between themselves, and that Dirge wore that terrible smirk again. I looked away because just the sight of him infuriated me, and was enough to make me want to go over there and wipe it off that stupid ugly grey face and then put a big dent in the silly pointed helmet.

Silverbolt gave a polite laugh. "Oh they're not in the databanks ..." he said quietly, and then he leaned to me and whispered: "I figure they weren't important enough; or ..." he leaned closer "it's possible they were from an ostracised Tribe, one which had lost status and merited no standing in the Tribal Order ..."

I felt the quiet, lovely presence of Fireflight next to me then and longed to take his hand again, but Thrust's optics were still focused upon us and I didn't dare. Then I saw Ramjet sidle over to their table and Thrust and Dirge looked at him and then they were talking together, and laughing their horrible laughs, which I could hear from where I was sitting. Their attention diverted, I couldn't help it: I reached down and under the table and I ran a hand over Fireflight's thigh.

I remember so well the feel of the metal - all smooth and warm and I could feel all the seams where panels joined each other; me moved slightly and made the tiniest little noise beside me and my spark gave a lurch and I felt dizzy again, and my own thighs tingled and I felt hydraulic fluid rush to my wings which had that fluttering sensation; and my pelvic plating suddenly felt all tight and again I felt things shift underneath it. And I just wanted _so badly_ to feel more of that thigh and more of him, to carefully explore all those seams and joins, to feel _all _of him, but right there at that table with Thrust and Dirge sitting over there like a couple of vultures in the background it just wasn't going to happen. And I was, once again, putting him at risk.

I took my hand away, but I wanted to scream in frustration.

"Skywarp ..." I turned. Silverbolt's lovely, soft blue optics were looking into mine. "Skywarp, you should know this too ... " on the other side of me Fireflight sighed deeply. Laughter came floating across from the other side of the table.

Silver leaned close to me one more time: "_There are two others like you!" _he said. I don't know where they are ... not in here ... but they are also of the High Order ... one very high ..." he was staring at me as with great urgency and it was then that I first started to think that perhaps this was something important after all. "Be careful," he said, "if they find out ..." and there was an imploring look in those optics which made me think that he was asking me to be careful in more than just one way.

Just then, the siren sounded, signalling the end of energisation time and summoning us to late cycle assembly. Silverbolt turned his attention back to the other three, who were looking over their shoulders and staring at the Coneheads. "You three! How many more times do I have to tell you? Stop drawing attention to yourselves ..."

There was a scraping of chairs and the rustling of metal forms as the roomful of flyers and Seekers rose then, and conversations came to a quick halt because from now on we would not be allowed to talk until early energisation the next cycle. Any further interest I might have had in what Silverbolt had said was completely overshadowed by the extreme urge I felt then to give my attention to Fireflight. I looked around and he was just gazing up at me, his optics that exquisite shade of cobalt blue, beautiful in his white face. I stared into them and his scent was intoxicating; I longed to touch him again and I sensed him stiffen and shift slightly and it felt like something moved between us. His optics widened and I knew he had felt it too.

He whispered: "Skywarp what's happening?" and his wings twitched. I said: "I don't know ...," and I was aware that both of us had our intakes heaving, and my pump was hammering fast. My wings had that fluttery sensation in them again and deep within me it felt as though something pulsed. It came into my processors that I desperately wanted to feel as much of him as I could and that the best way to do that would be to lay him down on the table and get on top of him, and so badly did I suddenly want to do this that I really think if Thrust had not appeared just then, the Prod in his hand, that is what would have happened. At the very least, there was no way I could have kept my hands off him.

But there was the miserable face and the sour smell – so much in contrast with Fireflight's sweetness - issuing from that red creep, and he was saying: "move along now .... come on!" although I saw that when he looked at me he still had that strange look in his optics and could not meet mine with his; I felt a surge of energy and confidence at the knowledge that I was so much a better specimen than him; he moved quickly past and I knew again that he knew better than to contemplate using the Prod.

Before we joined the line Fireflight still managed to whisper to me: "I'm looking forward to recharge time ...," and I whispered back: "Oh Fireflight, so am I!"

...................

I went through pre recharge ablution as though only half online. I was conscious now of an actual physical ache as a result of not being able to touch and hold Fireflight. I was aware also, however, that there was a Prefect staring and even though it was – mercifully – not Thrust or Dirge, I knew there could not be any indication of what I was feeling towards Fireflight, and so I kept my back to him.

I found myself instead concentrating on the feeling of my hands on my own body, the smoothness of my surfaces as I applied the cleanser to them and into the cracks and seams, and of jets of water gushing into all sorts of places I'd never really thought about before. It felt good, I realised. _Very _good. When I ran my fingers down the wing seams, I could feel that fluttering sensation again and when I ran the brush across my pelvis, that was when things moved inside, and I automatically opened my legs wider, and my thighs pulsed and the fluid really rushed to my wings; they stiffened straight upwards and outwards this time and I had the urge to flare them hard and to – be connected somehow with Fireflight. I remember that even though the water was so cold, I was burning hot again and that then I remembered the Prefect in the corner and I knew it wouldn't do for my wings to be seen to be doing that, whether I was looking at Fireflight or not, and so I stopped touching myself.

I hardly even heard the Prefect say: "finish it up now ..." signifying that it was nearly time, mercifully, for lights out.

.....................

I know I felt feverish as the lights went out, but thrilled like never before, and as soon as they did, I reached across and his hand found mine in the darkness. And then we had hold of each other and there was no way we were going to let go, and our hands explored each others frantically, altering the position so that different surfaces touched and slid across each other, scraping in soft deperation. I felt myself tickle his palm, and he did the same to mine, and then he clutched at my hand and squeezed really tight, and I squeezed his back, and then he squeezed again, and I unclasped and reclasped and changed the position and he let out a little whimper, and I could sense him squirm in the berth and I wanted to do that as well; but I remembered the Prefect and the Prods and the back room and I gritted my dental plates together and willed the rest of me apart from my hand to be still and quiet.

In all the vorns, I don't think I ever wanted anyone ever again as much as I wanted Fireflight during that recharge cycle. Well, not in such a – physical – way anyway. I can still remember it - grasping and caressing his hand because it was the only outlet for our passion; and I am absolutely certain that Fireflight had no fears in his processor about agents from Kell that night as the sheer power of it drove all other thoughts away.

Our clasped hands pressed together and burned hot metal on metal, and his scent was in the air. And then I realised I was really heating up inside, and that I was throbbing, and then I had a picture of him in the ablution block running the cleansing brush into his wing seams; and then suddenly my wings were as stiff as boards underneath me and within my pelvis it felt as though things were sliding and opening; and I remember I was tingling all over in a way I'd never felt before; then I was receiving information from my databanks that I had _connectors primed, interface mode engaged_ but of course I didn't have a clue what that meant ...

... except that now all I wanted to do was get in that berth with Fireflight. I wanted to be on top of him, wanted to run my hands over his chest and wings and up and down his thighs and into all his seams, and I wanted him doing the same to me. I wanted to feel the whole of him pressing up and writhing against me and I wanted to arch up over him and flare my wings and thrust hard and deep into him – somehow – with what, I didn't know, but somehow I knew if I could just get him underneath me it would happen.

But we couldn't. Despite the absolute raging nature of that desire I did not do it. Not because I feared the Prod, or the Prefects, or anything now. But because I feared any possibility that might make it that I didn't see him again.

Then I remember I pulled his hand across and put his slim fingers to my lips and he just tasted so sweet and he moaned and I heard him whimper: "Oh Skywarp..." and that just turned me on even more. I still had no idea _why _I was doing all this, but it had long since ceased to matter. It was just something that had to be. And I kept the hand against my mouth but I wanted it to be not just his hand, but his lips and all sorts of other bits of him; and I wanted to be on top of him and I wanted him to strain and push up against me and I wanted so much to thrust and push hard into him ...

... and that was when I remembered how nice it had felt touching myself in the shower, and I freed my other hand and ran my fingers up and down my chest and over my intakes, and then along the wing seams and it felt _wonderful_, as though everywhere I touched came alive and tingled in anticipation; and my wings twitched and stiffened even harder and I felt my whole body shudder. And then I felt an overbearing need to touch my lower body and so I slid my hand down, and that was when I felt this – _part_ of me I'd never felt before ...

... sticking out ...

.... and suddenly that part was just so important to my whole being and everything else I was feeling seemed to radiate from that part, and something just so needed to happen with that part, and I grabbed hold of it and ...

It just exploded. Well, that was what it felt like. And then the whole of me exploded, and searing heat ripped through every circuit ...

and ... I let out an almighty wail ... I couldn't help it ... and I hung on to Fireflight's hand - and just about crushed it - and I'm sure he cried out, but I hardly heard it because then my head swam with the overwhelming pleasure that flowed through every part of me and the relief which followed was unbelievable ...

... and then I still had hold of Firelight's hand, and now he was gripping it hard, and I still found that very exciting, and I could hear him moving and whimpering and then he cried out as well and it sounded really loud in the darkness, and I heard other bodies rustle and shift around us.

Then there was the sound of a door opening and a shaft of light and I realised, with horror, that it was the back room, and then I could hear footsteps approaching. I pulled my hand away and lay flat on my back and shuttered my optics and I heard Fireflight hastily rearrange himself next to me. The footsteps slowed and I sensed the torch light beam upon me, but only briefly, and then the footsteps moved on, and faded away, and the back room door opened and closed again, and I sighed and felt weak with relief.

It was quiet, and very dark. I suddenly felt very tired but deeply satisfied in a way I never remembered having felt before. I felt myself drifting offline, and it was like descending into a still and beautiful lake, and I felt as though anything which could have been a problem had been taken care of for the time being, and that I was floating somewhere that there were no Thrusts or Dirges and prods but only beautiful forms and exquisite touching and the sweet agony of pleasure.

The last thing I heard before the blackness of offlineness descended was Fireflight sigh deeply and murmur "Skywarp ..." and turn over, the last thing I thought of was the feel of his hand in mine.

.......................

_I noticed lots of people are visiting this story - thanks for reading, it's a bit different I know and I hope you're enjoying it. Feel free to review - interested in your comments!!_

_Incidentally, I haven't abandoned 'Decadence' and am working on the next Chapter._


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